lazy days

This morning I decided to completely ignore my to do list and just do nothing except read. Unfortunately I've run out of books, so I took a stroll into town to get a few. For some reason our town is a paradise for market researchers and I always feel a bit sorry for them, having done a stint when I was a student. I was particularly enamoured of the researcher who asked if I fell into a particular age bracket. I just smirked and said, I wish. It was a creative ploy, as I felt so well disposed towards her that I sat for over half an hour going through what appeared to be a survey commissioned by Expedia. I was also able to check all the qualification boxes, which is some satisfaction for having spent so many years not earning any money and living in a rundown heap.

Feeling good about myself, I returned home to take on the difficult task of making a hair appointment. Now I'm as comfortable as is humanly possible with making difficult calls to parents in my work and pretty much anything, but I am terrified of making appointments with hairdressers, dentists and garages. I am proud to say that I am now the owner of a double booking with the style director at a good salon. We'll see exactly how good they are on Thursday afternoon by how many glasses of wine I need to drink when it's done.

I couldn't make a booking for Gypsy Tart, Ginger Cake and I to have the treatments we wanted at the spa, so I'll just have to have another day off in a few weeks. That sounds so good, doesn't it? I could really get used to this, but I don't think I'll ever be able to give up work and fill my days with 'me me me' activities unless we get a rich benefactor. You must be out there somewhere, find us. I'll even throw in Mr McMuffin for an Indecent Proposal style deal and I promise I won't think he's dirty afterwards.